“I am,” Thayer said, frowning a bit at Iris’s thick consonants. “And I’m so excited that Stevie here is joining me.”
A horrible silence spilled in between them. A silence Thayer clearly didn’t understand, her head tilted toward Stevie in question.
“Yeah,” Iris said, her voice even and quiet. Too quiet. She blinked heavily. “We’re all so excited.”
“I really need to get her home, Dr. Calloway,” Stevie said. Dread coiled in her stomach.
“Of course,” Thayer said. “I’ll be in touch.”
“Great,” Stevie said, then started to pull Iris away.
Iris, however, dug in her heels. “Stevie’s amazing, right? Totally belongs in New York. She’s a star. So big a star, she shouldn’t even think about anyone else, right?”
Stevie couldn’t breathe. Could barely think.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Thayer said, but she was clearly caught off guard by Iris’s behavior.
“Well, let me explain,” Iris said, clapping her hands together, butStevie knew whatever Iris was about to say, Stevie couldn’t bear to hear it in front of her future director. She wasn’t sure she could bear to hear it at all.
Because in this moment, Stevie realized she had right and truly fucked this up.
“Dr. Calloway, I’m sorry, please excuse us,” Stevie said, and finally managed to haul Iris away, one arm tightly hooked around her waist. Partygoers looked their way, amused expressions on their faces as a drunk Beatrice stumbled through the room.
Stevie managed to find a bottle of water and tucked it under her arm, never letting go of Iris for a second. She got them outside, the air warm and breezy, and nearly ran to get Iris to Stevie’s car.
“I’m not ready to go home,” Iris said, but she didn’t resist as Stevie tucked her gently into the passenger seat and buckled her in. Iris flopped her head against the headrest, and Stevie opened the water, placing both of Iris’s hands around the cool plastic.
“Drink, please,” she said.
Iris did, but she watched Stevie as she gulped, an unreadable look in her eyes.
Stevie drove them to her apartment. Neither of them spoke and Stevie was glad. She had no clue what to say, what to do. Plus, Iris was drunk, and she felt like whatever conversation they were about to have, they both needed to be clearheaded.
Once inside her place, she put on a pot of coffee and got Iris another glass of water. Iris downed it, her hands shaking as she did. Once she finished it, she simply stumbled off toward the bathroom, mumbling something about a shower.
Stevie sat outside the bathroom door to make sure Iris didn’t fall or hurt herself in some way. And there, underneath the gentle hush of the water, came a sound Stevie had never heard before—a sniff and a hiccup, a wordless hum.
Iris Kelly was crying in Stevie’s shower.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
FUCK, SHE WAScrying in Stevie’s shower.
Iris sunk down into the tub, sitting on the porcelain with her forehead pressed against her knees, letting the cold water beat down on her back.
She should’ve known that first glass of champagne was a mistake. She hadn’t meant to get drunk, not really. But once the performance was over and she and Stevie had changed and walked down to Nadia’s hand in hand in silence, an awful silence full of questions Iris didn’t know how to ask, she’d immediately reached for a glass when they’d walked in the door. Stevie had been pulled away by some adoring donor, and goddamn if the cool bubbles hadn’t made Iris feel a little calmer, a little clearer.
But then Stevie didn’t return, and one drink became two, which soon turned into three, and she was already laughing at nothing and everything by the time Claire and Astrid found her.
The rest of the night was a bit hazy, lucidity returning only when Thayer Calloway had announced Stevie was heading to New York.
I’m so excited that Stevie here is joining me.
Like a cymbal crash.
That’s what it had felt like in Iris’s head—a loud, nearly incomprehensible noise, followed by a clear ringing in her ear.
Ren’s fears had been unfounded, all their worry—Iris’sworry since Ren’s visit—that Stevie would give up such a chance forher...
